


How it feels to fall

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Grantaire is a Mess, Happy Ending, M/M, enjolras is a clueless idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was 2 o’clock in the morning when Enjolras realized he was in love with Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How it feels to fall

It was 2 o’clock in the morning when Enjolras realized he was in love with Grantaire.  It was odd, really, he’d always thought of him as nothing but a nuisance, but somewhere along the line Enjolras had begun to enjoy seeing him, to crave his bitter smirk, to take pleasure in hearing him laugh.

 

It had been a slow descent from tolerating R to loving him, one that Enjolras apparently hadn’t been aware he’d been making until it was utterly too late.

Naturally Enjolras found this horrific. In his mind, Grantaire would never like him back, (when clearly he did, Grantaire was never exactly subtle) and he had no time or tolerance for this “unrequited” nonsense.

 

Enjolras liked to think of himself as a problem solver. He was an activist, a fighter. He’d talked his way through so many things and yet, with this, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. It hurt his head really, how implausible the situation was. Him? In love? It’d never happened before. So why now and why with someone like _Grantaire?_

Apparently opposites do attract.

 

* * *

 

 It was 3 o’clock in the morning when Enjolras had come up with a plan to deal with the situation. His go to solution was always to talk- to make grand speeches about his cause- why should this be any different?

 

And that’s when he began to write. From then on he wrote speech upon speech about Grantaire, how every time he touched him, his heart raced, and how just being around him made Enjolras weak in the knees.

 

* * *

 

 This went on for weeks, Enjolras writing about Grantaire and every physical and emotional feeling he had for him went down on paper.

 

And in Enjolras’ mind things were going perfectly (not as perfectly as if Grantaire were his of course, but that could never happen) until Courfeyrac confronted him.

 

“Enjolras, you seem more… human lately. And not that I’m complaining, I’ve been perfectly fine without you yelling at me, thankyouverymuch, I just find it odd. So Enjy… Have you… found someone?” He leaned in closer and raised his eyebrows at him, mouth set in a delighted grin.

 

“No. What? No. Absolutely not.”

 

Combeferre, who had been sitting across from them, pretending not to listen, dropped his book.

 

“Oh my fucking god he has.”

 

“I most certainly have not.”

  
“Enjolras are you fucking kidding me? I know you better then anyone here. I can tell when you’re lying.” Enjolras blushed and Combeferre went on. “Anyways. Movie night at our place. We’re inviting everyone- the whole gang. Even R. We’re watching the Avengers. We’re getting you drunk. And then, while you’re recovering from a bitter hangover the next day, you’re going to tell me all about this guy. I mean- um- girl?” He added on quickly.

 

"Ferre, it's fine. I think everyone knows at this point."

 

Courfeyrac raised his hand. "I didn't! But welcome to the club Enjolras."

 

"What club?"

 

"The guys are hot cl-" Courfeyrac stopped. "Wait, you just changed the subject."

 

"Do I have to?"

 

“This is not up for debate.”

 

Enjolras sighed. “Fine. So when is this happening?”

 

“Tomorrow. 9pm. I’ll buy food and booze. And text everyone. This is gonna be awesome, I've actually never seen the Avengers.”

 

“Excuse me? We’ve been dating for three months now and you’ve never seen the Avengers? I need a moment."

 

“Stop being so dramatic,” teased Coufeyrac, leaning across the table to peck him on the lips.”

  
“You guys are so cute, it’s sickening,” said Enjolras, getting up to leave.

 

“See you tomorrow!”

 

 

* * *

 

Naturally, the first thing Enjolras did when he got back to his place was write a speech about how he felt about Grantaire coming over to his house and most likely seeing him stone-drunk, which is something most don’t see. It had really hit a low point, his writing, basically turning into a _diary_ which was _gross_ and Enjolras wanted no part of it. But he didn't know what else to do.

 

_“I mean… It’s not as if I haven’t seen him drunk…”_

* * *

 

Grantaire had been hopelessly in love with Enjolras since freshman year, when they’d had English together. His infatuation was to the point of pathetic, where Enjolras was at times the only ray of light in his dark dark life. He could only think about him, sketch him, paint him, dream about him. Enjolras had taken a hold of his mind and occupied all of his thoughts.

 

But they could never be, Grantaire knew this, as sure as his own existence. How could Enjolras, Apollo, someone so perfect and god-like, ever care for someone like himself?

 

He’d thought this for all of these years, trying to get Enjolras out of his head, trying to hate his Apollo, but it never worked. He thrived on seeing Enjolras, lived if only to breathe in his presence.

 

It was horribly unhealthy, and Joly and Bossuet lectured him about it daily. But in the end, it didn’t matter, and they knew it. Grantaire couldn’t be swayed.

 

Eventually they came to accept it as a good thing. At least R could finally believe in something, right?

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac already had snacks laid out, the movie up on the TV and booze in a cooler when Enjolras got back.

 

“Courf, I said I’d help.”

  
“I know. I got excited. Plus you were late.”

 

“I-” Enjolras was cut off by the sound of someone opening the door. It had to be Combeferre or Marius, as they were the only ones invited that had a key to their apartment.

 

“Courf!”

 

“Combeferre! Thank god you’re here I was starting to worry that no one would show up!”

 

Enjolras sighed and shook his head. “Oh _come on_ Courfeyrac it’s only 9:01.”

 

“Exactly.” He replied, slinging his arm around Combeferre as someone knocked at the door. Enjolras turned around to look at Courfeyrac and saw he and Combeferre were already on the couch, smashing their faces together.

 

“….Aww? I’ll get the door.”

 

Enjolras opened it and his breath caught in his chest. It was Grantaire.

 

_But Courfeyrac said he might not show up…_

He looked up and saw Grantaire still standing there. Enjolras realized he was blocking the doorway and quickly stepped away.

 

“Sorry.”

  
“Did you just… apologize to me?”

 

“Is that a problem…?”

 

“You’ve never said anything close to nice to me before.”

 

“Oh.” Enjolras hoped he wasn’t blushing.  (He was.)

 

* * *

 

 They were halfway through the movie- everyone was drunk, and Grantaire was asking everyone if they had a flashlight he could use (no one really wanted to know why). Eventually Courfeyrac started gesturing towards Enjolras’ room mumbling something about there being one in the third drawer on the left.

 

“How do you _even_ know that?”

 

“….I… one time... no…”

 

Grantaire stumbled off down the hall to Enjolras’ room and by the time he’d gotten there he’d forgotten everything Courfeyrac had said. He handled this by just yanking open every drawer he saw.

 

He pulled open one drawer, and it came out of the nightstand, and papers fell everywhere.

 

_Shit._

 

He bent down to pick them up and noticed something. His name. On every page.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Naturally he started to read.

 

“ _I love him, and it’s stupid. I don’t even know why. I am hopelessly in love with Grantaire and I am an idiot.”_

 

“Holy… Holy fuck…”

 

Grantaire couldn’t stop smiling. He read through everything, and at the line “ _It’s obvious he hates himself, and I can’t see why. It’s clear he hates me as well, though with that I can see why.”_ he started to cry.

 

_How… I…_

Grantaire was so filled up with emotion, he wasn’t sure what to do, so he just sat on Enjolras’s floor, staring at the pages in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Outside, Enjolras had just processed the fact that Grantaire was in his room looking through his things. He panicked and flailed off of the couch, kicking Courfeyrac in the face, who, kissing Combeferre on the cheek, got up and followed him as he stumbled into his room, waiting just outside.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire heard footsteps and got up, shoving Enjolras’ speeches under the nightstand, wiping the tears from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was thoroughly bewildered when, as he walked in, R shoved him back against the door frame.

 

“Enjolras,” he breathed, their faces so close together that he could smell the booze and cigarettes on his breath, feel his black curls brush against his forehead. “Enjolras, I fucking love you.”

 

And as Grantaire kissed him, the world stopped. All he could think was Grantaire. His scent, how soft his lips were, how he felt under his hands.

 

Everything was Grantaire, and it was beautiful and furious and passionate.

 

(Even Courf’s cheering couldn’t be heard.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I reuploaded this because i edited it a lot.) If you liked it at all please leave kudos or maybe even a comment, it means a lot!  
> Also, if you wanna talk to me on tumblr (knightgrantaire.tumblr.com) that'd be awesome


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